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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279556">Of Apples and Miracles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oopsynini/pseuds/Oopsynini'>Oopsynini</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Apple Slices [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crowley's adorable nicknames, Daddy Aziraphale, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gabriel is a jerk, M/M, Mentions of Animal Cruelty, Mentions of birth and aftereffects, Papa Crowley, Past Mpreg, Poetic Moments, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Slice of Life, cursing, mentions of breastfeeding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oopsynini/pseuds/Oopsynini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale strolls between the bookshelves of his humble shop, humming to himself under his breath as he rocked the little creature in his arms into gentle compliance. His hips still hurt something awful, and he’d rather not discuss the dreadful healing he’s put up with up to now. Yet, looking down at her, he is still just as stunned by her existence now, two weeks after her birth, as he was the day she was born. <br/>All is well until Aziraphale's quiet moment with his newborn is interrupted by a very confused Gabriel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Apple Slices [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>187</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Apples and Miracles</h2></a>
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  <em>Apfel - 2 weeks</em>
</p><p>   Aziraphale strolls between the bookshelves of his humble shop, humming to himself under his breath as he rocked the little creature in his arms into gentle compliance. His hips still hurt something awful, and he’d rather not discuss the dreadful healing he’s put up with up to now. Yet, looking down at her, he is still just as stunned by her existence now, two weeks after her birth, as he was the day she was born.</p><p>   “Why yes, my dearest Apfel. You are such a surprise. You have made me oh so happy!” He crooned, his eyes on the bookshelves beside him. “Oh! This is Songs of the Seven Senses,” He paused at one shelf halfway down the aisle, pulling down a standard red-covered book, the pages yellowing with age. “A lovely rendition by Don Blanding,” He explained, his enthusiasm causing her to burp in his arms. “Excuse you, dear, ah, this is what I wanted to share with you, listen here, my bright-eyed dove.” Flipping to a well-known page, he cleared his throat.</p><p>   “I try to live each day in such a way, that when tomorrow makes today a yesterday, I will have woven into the fabric of my life some gay design. Some patch of color, bright to please the eye.” His eyes skimmed over each line of the poem with avid passion. Blanding had quite the way with words, a wonderful skill truly to be treasured. The illustrations were a nice little addition that piqued the eye.</p><p>   “Now then, you may be a little too young to understand the prose, and in technicality, this is not about you, but with a little imagination, one can adjust the original meaning to suit their own intentions! ” Aziraphale explained, peering down at her swaddled form. The blue blanket she is curled up in matches her eyes exactly and has endearing little bunnies hopping across the surface. It had made Crowley gag, as most loveable things did; it’d taken him months to get over being kissed by Aziraphale; something about too much morality and the taste of strawberries being too strong. Not to mention the sex…that’d been another hurdle to get over altogether! Although that'd just been obstinance on their parts- one can only deny their feelings for so long!</p><p>   Aziraphale blushed, thinking it’d be best to get back to thoughts of the bunny blanket and the cute little thing wrapped within it. <em>Thoughts best left for another time.</em> He reprimanded himself, tucking the cloth around her round cherub cheeks.</p><p>   She has already grown so much in just a short amount of time, her little body lengthening before his discerning eyes. The pink hair is a puffy mop on her head, longer than he’d ever seen any other newborns, not that he had seen many, to be honest. His experience with such things was limited at best. Crowley had reassured him it was normal, that some babies come out hairier than others, and some came out rather bald.</p><p>   "Just be glad we aren’t walking around with a wee balding old man Angel." He hadencouraged with a wink. Aziraphale decided it was best to get on one of those newfangled computers and do some research on his own. His experience with Warlock counted, to an extent, but he’d been a gardener at the time, and no one lets the gardener hold the baby. He should know, he had asked, but an excessive amount of dirt had been the excuse not to allow it. So yes, he had some research to do. When there was time, more importantly, when he was notsnot blighting tired, already he could feel a bit of the yawns coming on.</p><p>   In most things, Apfel is very much Crowley’s daughter, though Crowley says he reads into her actions too much. ‘She’s just a little lass with nothing in her head but your teat and a good poo.’ Had been his explanation, with a roll of his extravagant eyes. Aziraphale thought not, especially now, when she was busy giving him something he would call a stink eye, one eyelid squinting in her best frown of disdain. “Don’t look at me like that, darling,” He yawned, the thing coming over him with a grand stretch of his jaw and a tightening of his lungs. Blasted things, yawns, he couldn’t bring himself to get used to them. It seemed one of those things he’d be forced to deal with until he recovered from Apfel’s birth.</p><p>   “So sorry, very rude of me. As I was saying, you’ll come to love books. Books make the world a better place-”</p><p>   The door chime at the front of the shop rung loud and cheerful. In comparison, Aziraphale scowled, his mood dimming at the idea of <em>customers</em>. Lifting little miss to his shoulder, he gave her a gentle pat to the rump. “Alright, darling, we have <em>visitors.”</em> Aziraphale harrumphed at the thought as he placed the book back into its place and took the few steps up the aisle to get to the main section of the shop.</p><p>   “Hello, welcome to A.Z. Fell and -” Aziraphale stumbled to a halt as he came into the middle of the store and spotted someone he had most certainly expected, nor wanted, to see.</p><p>   “What…is…that?” Gabriel stepped out from beside the counter, his prim suit spotless and unwrinkled. His hair perfectly coiffed to the side, a wrinkle to his noise the only thing that marred his perfect veneer. It spoke of disdain and was directed to the baby settled on Aziraphale's shoulder.</p><p>   Aziraphale was far less put together, his trousers were creased, and he had spit-up on his shoulder. He could feel it seeping into his sweater. He was not at all dressed for this sort of house call. </p><p>   “Oh…dear.”</p><p>   “I am serious Aziraphale, what is that…thing?” Aziraphale flinched as one long, manicured finger reached out as if to touch his daughter. His wings are out before he has a moment to think, an eye-blinding puff of white feathers that pushed seeking hands out of his general vicinity before he gives it a moment's thought. He'd be damned if he allowed the Archangel who tried to discorporate him anywhere close to his baby. It was bad enough for him to be standing comfortably in his home as if he’d been invited in.</p><p>   “It’s a baby Gabriel.” He snapped, his voice going high in distress as he tucked his wings around himself and dropped her to the cradle of his arms to shield her more securely.</p><p>   “Well, yes, I can see that.” Gabriel snapped, his eyes rolling and his lips pursing in annoyance. The smell of cologne on him seemed to redouble its efforts, sticking to Aziraphale's nostrils with aggressive gusto. “How did you get it?”</p><p>   Aziraphale feels rather perturbed, at that, some odd hurt feeling stinging a bit in his chest. “I did not <em>get</em> her from anywhere.” He snapped, lifting his chin in haughty disdain. “She’s mine, actually.” He explained. He blinked at the note of pride in his voice. Pride? How sinful. <em>Oh, my serpentine husband would love that.</em></p><p>   The Archangel tilted his head for a moment, lips pursed in confusion as he considered Aziraphale's words. It takes him a minute, but when he finally realizes what Aziraphale is getting at, his face distorts in open revulsion. “Oh…that’s disgusting.”</p><p>   “I was carrying her for centuries. You never noticed?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Anything human was disgusting to Gabriel. This would be no different.</p><p>   “I just thought you took to liking your corporal form…round.” He emphasized his words with a twirl of his fingers that takes in Aziraphale’s slightly rotund figure.  Apfel made wingeing noise against his chest. If he’s not careful, it will turn into a full-blown wail, so he brushed a finger along Apfel’s lips and allowed her to suckle it for the moment, if only to keep her quiet. “Honestly, not much seems to have changed since it was born them, huh?” Gabriel continues, a snicker making his perfect chin look dubious at best. The words sting a bit, and Aziraphale takes a step back, eyes downcast, wanting this meeting to be over with.</p><p>   There was a soft touch at his back from a hand that radiates heat and is soothing in its familiarity. “Ah, I thought I smelled Archangel shit from upstairs.” Crowley’s rolling voice broke through Aziraphale’s discomfort as he leaned back against that bracing arm, allowing his wings to withdraw back into his ethereal form.</p><p>   “I thought it smelled a bit like cologne, Dior Amber Nuit,” Aziraphale admitted turning his head to whisper his own observations against Crowley’s ear.</p><p>   “Sarcasm darling,” Crowley explained through gritted teeth, his eye’s unreadable behind his glasses.</p><p>   “Oh…” Aziraphale nodded. He was rather bad at sarcasm, a well-known fact, really.</p><p>   “What do you want, Gabriel? Shop charges by the minute, so you’ll have to get to it fast.” Aziraphale’s lips twisted in confusion as he glanced between the two of them.</p><p>   “No, it does not-”</p><p>   “Sarcasm...again, Angel.” Crowley cuts him off this time, fingers squeezing the flesh at the base of his spine as if to say, ‘Quiet down, old chap, I’ve got this.’</p><p>   “Right,” Aziraphale whispers this time, snickering softly under his breath. Apfel makes a similar sound against his finger. He’s glad she seems to get it. He’s just laughing because it seems appropriate.</p><p>   Beside him, Crowley clucked his tongue, “Again, by the minute Archangel dunce-head. I’d say you’re hitting double digits at the moment.”</p><p>   Gabriel is looking more and more affronted as time goes on, his eyes glaring between the three of them and the complete conundrum they must represent. He seemed much less comfortable being in Crowley’s presence. Aziraphale was pleased with that. Most people feared his husband. Only the good ones get to know his tender side. “Well, I’ve received reports of an abundance of miracle’s in the area, more specifically on the date of May tenth. They’ve continued in some form or another since then.” Gabriel explained, eyes narrowing as he stared down at Apfel’s candy floss hair, derision plain on his face.</p><p>   Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged glances, both of their raising an eyebrow at each-other in open surprise. “May tenth, you say?” Aziraphale questioned slowly, glancing down at Apfel to shield his dismay. May tenth, the date of her birth. He could hardly recall creating any miracles that day. He’d been very much distracted by his own pain at that point.</p><p>   “Yes, a hippopotamus flew at the London Zoo. A local florist developed a new species of flower, and the Prime Minister combed his hair.”</p><p>   “Oh dear, that is a bit of a kerfuffle,” Aziraphale admitted, throat bobbing in distress.</p><p>   “Can’t say we know the cause, though!” Interjected Crowley, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Though I am intrigued by the looks of that flower, what color did you say it was?”</p><p>   “I didn’t. However, it was pink, if you must know. Very similar to her hair, in fact.”</p><p>   “Oh, what a coincidence!” Aziraphale chipped in. Oh God, he was going to be sick. He sent Crowley a discrete look. This was not good, not good at all. <em>Get him out of here!</em> He tried to make his eyes say, casting them from Gabriel to the front door.</p><p>   “Right-o old man, look at the time, shouldn’t you be going? I’m sure there’s a cologne sale at the perfumery down the street, wouldn’t want to run low now, would we?” Crowley seemed to get the hint as he urged Gabriel away, waving his hands at the tall angel and moving in closer until Gabriel was forced to back up. “You owe us a fifty note, B.T.W, that stands for ‘by the way,’ if you didn’t know. So I’ll be expecting that before you head out.” Crowley’s hips sashay something lovely, and Aziraphale is only slightly distracted by them.</p><p>   “Don’t you touch me, hellspawn.” Gabriel scowled, jerking his arm out of reach before making his way to the exit. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wallet and tossed the note over. “Expect to hear from me, Aziraphale, if any further ‘miracles’ occur. It was a bit disturbing to the humans when we had to put down that hippo. I’m sure you understand the need to be discrete?”</p><p>   Aziraphale stared into his seedy eyes and swallowed hard. If that wasn’t a threat, he didn’t know what was.</p><p>   He was relieved when the door finally closed behind the man and even laughed as Crowley slammed home the lock and flopped back against it to brace himself. “Hell below did that man REAK!” He shouted, waving a hand in an exaggerated motion in front of his face. Aziraphale wrinkled his nose in agreement.</p><p>   “It does smell much better on you, dear.”</p><p>   “That’s no comfort, my little vanilla bean cupcake. I’m gonna need to flush the whole bottle down the drain. There is no helping it now. I have bad memories associated with it.” Crowley heaved himself from the door with a roll of disjointed hips and directed himself to Aziraphale. “I might even need to burn down the factory, fucking angels, ruin everything.”</p><p>   Aziraphale rolled his eyes, knowing he was one and apart from the rest of heavens lot and didn’t fall into that particular category. Reaching out, Crowley took Apfel in hand, and despite his jibbing tone, seemed to look her over thoroughly for injury before turning to Aziraphale to do the same. He ran a hand through Aziraphale’s hair before placing it at the back of his head and dragging him in close.</p><p>   “You alright?” Aziraphale nodded miserably and sighed as his demon breathed into the hair at the top of his head, taking him in with great lungfuls of air.</p><p>   “The miracles Crowley…I didn’t mean to.” He explained, pursing his lips. "And I'm more than certain I haven't thrown around any miracles since than, that must mean she's-"</p><p>   Crowley snorted against his hair, shoving him away and heading towards the stairs. “Nope! Not listening! Get your fine ass upstairs. You were having a baby. I won’t have you feeling guilty over meaningless angel decorum and miracles or any of that bullshit. She is just a little thing that is happy to be alive. We can't hold a few miracles against her. ” Aziraphale followed behind, feeling better as Crowley goes on. A yawn broke the moment, bursting from his lungs without his permission. <em>So tired</em>.</p><p>   "Yes, you are probably right." He admitted eyes level with Crowley's leather-clad rump as they took the stairs.</p><p>   “Also! The next time that dickhead calls you fat, I will slit his throat and make him sing God Save the Queen through the hole of it. You are the glorious bearer of my child, the fucking wind beneath my wings! I will do it, Angel, don’t you doubt me on that!”</p><p>   “I would never!” Aziraphale wrinkled his nose and a grimace of disgust at the visual, even as a brilliant blush made his cheeks turn hot. "I'm the wind beneath your wings?"  Crowley always managed to do that, making him feel desirable and wanted even with weird, backhanded comments such as those. </p><p>   “Of course you are!" Aziraphale could hear the eyeroll, even if he couldn't see it, "I’m ordering a pizza, on Gabriel," He waved the fifty above his head for emphasis, voice a triumphant chortle. "What do you want? We’ll get Babbo’s, of course.”</p><p>   “I’m rather tired, dearest.” Crowley whipped around at that, a hand going to cup the baby's head as he moved, smushing the fifty to her forehead. One red brow raised above the contour of his glasses and a slow scowl letting up his features. Aziraphale could feel the other man eyeing him, both externally and metaphysically.</p><p>   “Hmmm…your aura is still very dim, love.”</p><p>   “Yes, well…baby.”</p><p>   “Fine, a nap while the pizza arrives, then food and more sleep.” Aziraphale gave a put upon sigh, but it was mostly for show. It was silly really, Crowley would not eat but a nibble of the pizza, and the baby was more interested in other things. Then again, Crowley cared enough to order food for him, so he’d do his best to eat it. “Of course, dearest.”</p><p>   In his arms, Apfel took to crying, and they both winced in unison.</p><p>   “Well, if you lay on the settee, you can sleep while she feeds.” Aziraphale moaned but nodded in agreement.</p><p>   “My nipples are quite perturbed with this new usage.” He admitted drearily, settling onto the sofa with a soft moan for his hips.</p><p>   Crowley chuckled, his nose wrinkling in sympathy even as he helped Aziraphale ease up his jumper and settle their girl close. Aziraphale sighed, closing his eyes and settling down to the sound of Crowley, ordering them a meal. He heard something about prosciutto and artichoke hearts before sleep took him into its arms. Apfel’s wings fluttered against his chest in contented little shivers, warm and soft.</p><p>   Lovely.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have so many little tidbits I want to share with you guys about these three. There will be more to come!<br/>I am so happy to see you all liking them as much as I do! Thank you to the lovely Eneffable Husband's FB group for assisting me with the book of poems choice for this scene.</p><p> <br/>Episode 3 is up. Headover when you're done if you so desire!</p><p> </p><p>Comment, Kudo, or Bookmark to your heart's content! I do so love feedback.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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